


What They Left Behind

by ThefirstRanger



Category: The Brotherband Chronicles - John Flanagan
Genre: Angst, Gen, Homesickness, Skandia, inner thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:23:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22780156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThefirstRanger/pseuds/ThefirstRanger
Summary: The Herons didn't fully understand what they had gotten themselves into when they sailed off into exile. hey had hope, but exile is long and they are only teenagers. It is only natural to miss family, friends, and the homes left behind.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 14





	What They Left Behind

In their shame, in their haste, the Herons didn’t fully understand what leaving Hallsholm to find the Andomal for their exile would fully entail. They were mostly teenagers, sixteen at the most, under the supervision of one former, slightly embittered champion with only one hand. Thorn could handle exile, he was pretty sure about that, he hadn’t felt that connected to Hallasholm in years and he had connections that could help him carve out a new life. But the boys; the boys were young and still hopeful and had families and friends they left behind. The Herons wouldn’t do well in prolonged exile. Their fountains of hope would get drained.

They scour the ports for any information on Zavac or the Andomal and when Thorn can, he sneaks off to the local delivery man and sends letters to all the Heron’s families and Erak. They can never respond back, the Herons don’t stay in the same place long enough, and the letters are almost always horribly outdated, but it’s some comfort. The letters Thorn sends to Erak hold no comfort. They rip into Erak and berate him for his decision; there’s nothing Erak can do to stop Thorn from sending the letters and in a way, Erak knows he deserves them. 

Ingvar’s birthday happens a week into their exile. He didn’t tell anyone and no one mentioned it. Why would he? Truth be told, he had almost forgotten about it. He’s seventeen and he sadly thinks he’s too young to be doing what he’s doing. They’re all too young to be doing what they’re doing. Ingvar knows that their mission to recover the Andomal is essentially impossible; even if they could find the Andomal, Zavac would never let it go without a fight. The rest of the crew never hears Ingvar’s thoughts about this. He’s the solid, steady rock and already Ingvar can tell that they are fading. He has a part to play and he will play it even when he wants to snap at everyone. 

Ulf and Wulf take the longest. They have each other and for the most part, that’s all they need. Of course they miss their mam, but they had the other brother and that was enough to stave off the homesickness for a long time. When they do crack, it is terrible. Instead of annoying yet familiar bickering, there is only silence. There is nothing to distract the rest of the ship from the salt surrounding them and the salt pouring down their eyes. When the twins do talk, it’s in solemn tones. They cannot keep up the performance for so long without any hope.

Edvin is the one who cracks first. Practical, responsible Edvin. Edvin, the only child of older parents who loved him who will never see him again. Thorn hears him crying in the dead of night and he has no idea how to comfort the boy. The next morning, there is no sign of Edvin crying and if Thorn hadn’t heard him, he wouldn’t have believed it had happened. If Edvin pauses every once in a while to look for non existent land at the horizon in the opposite direction of the way they are going, no one blames him.

Stefan puts on a mask of cynicism and sarcasm and it works for a little bit to forget the memories of Hallasholm. He misses his family, sure, but in order to cope, he focuses on the parts of Hallasholm that he doesn’t miss- Tursgurd, the skirls who were a little self-righteous, the sellers who wouldn’t let Stefan buy on credit when his da was just a few days late with the escort ship payment. The Hallasholm Stefan left is not the Hallasholm Stefan loved and grew up in, it is not the Hallasholm Stefan will come back to, and he will go back, and it is not the Hallasholm he remembers on the Heron. It’s the bitterness that keeps him moving, but it’s the sweetness that keeps him up at night.

Hal is the most focused and that’s what keeps him afloat. His almost too keen sense of determination and tunnel vision, along with the Heron and his friends, keep Hal only focused on what lies ahead and not on what he left behind. It’s a blessing and a curse Halt thinks and he’s right. For so long, the Heron had occupied Hal’s world and now it was the only thing he had to his name. Hal Mikkelson wasn’t even supposed to exist in Skandia anymore. Sometimes Hal felt that he wouldn’t exist outside of the Heron. 

Stig misses his mam, but he can barely think about her. Another man in her life has sailed off and left. Granted, the situations are very different for father and son, but Stig takes no comfort in that. He never wanted to be like his father and yet he left his mother to be all alone. Stig doesn’t let himself cry, but he goes extra hard during the drills and his anger, once like a club, is now a finely honed dagger. All he needs is a target to aim at.

Jesper didn’t have many ties to Hallasholm beside the people he was sailing with. An old blacksmith who let him use the scrap pieces of metal, the lady who always slipped Jesper an extra fish when he bought from her, and maybe a few acquaintances. No one who Jesper would cry over not seeing them again. Jesper figures he’s got enough skills to eck out a living anyway, every town has a black market if you know where to look, but he does miss the beauty of Hallasholm. The way the air seemed cleaner there with the pines, the waves crashing on the cliffs, the cold that kept you on your toes. Jesper missed it and he supposed he missed the way Hallasholm was familiar to him.

Thorn is too old to be gallivanting around with teenagers and yet he doesn’t know where else he could possibly be. It’s been ages since he’s ridden in a wolfship, plundered with a crew, and he can already see the signs of weariness that only come after years of battle. He recognizes his own face in the young ones around him and it scares Thorn to his core. They shouldn’t look like me, Thorn thinks as he goes on watch duty at night. No one on watch duty ever acknowledges the odd sounds they hear, sounds that are oddly similar to crying.


End file.
